


Evolutionary Love

by ApresMoi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brotherly Love, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApresMoi/pseuds/ApresMoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he could remember, Sam Winchester had loved his brother and the same could be said for Dean.  This AU story will follow them through good times and bad but always through the evolution of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evolutionary Love

**Author's Note:**

> A slight warning on the first chapter, there is a slightly nc-17/NSFW Sam/OFC moment but its talked about moreso than seen so hopefully you won't mind...because the boys don't. ;)

For as long as he could remember, Sam Winchester had loved his brother.

In the beginning and before he had been able to form true conscious thought, the love he felt had been that of a child that depends on a parent for sustenance and basic needs.  He loved him with an utterly pure blind faith that told him Dean would naturally always be there.  It was simply a fact that he would always keep the monsters at bay. He would always make things right.

As the years passed, the love he felt grew and transformed into that of hero-worship.  His brother knew everything so far as he could tell, could charm his way in to or out of any situation (his effect on women in particular was a thing of magic) and more than anything else he was the only true constant in Sam’s chaotic young life.  More consistent even than their father who, despite being there slightly more often than not, had never been one hundred percent present in his sons’ company. Even as young as he was, it had always seemed to Sam that his father spent an inordinate amount of time inside his own head either chasing the next case or revisiting old memories. Dean, however… Dean had been there, awake and aware for each and every moment.  Every scraped knee, every tear shed in the midst of a nightmare, every childhood first; His brother was his playmate, his guardian and his teacher.

The older Sam got and as the rapid-fire anarchy created by burgeoning hormones hit him, the more his protector became a pain in his ass.  Sure he was still acutely aware that most of his survival depended on Dean and his brother’s willingness and ability to do what it took to keep them fed and clothed. That didn’t matter. They were brothers above all and this meant that by default they must embarrass, harass and generally do whatever it took to toughen one another up in preparedness for the outside world. Their physiology told them that they should despise one another on the worst days and begrudgingly tolerate one another’s presence on the best.  Even through all of this, Sam knew deep within the recesses of his mind that each and every singular molecule that made up his person was attached irrevocably and unapologetically to Dean.

At the age of seventeen, by the time the brain fog that was pubescent idiocy had cleared, Sam had gained a new perspective on Dean. He began to see his brother as the imperfect perfection that he was.  He was human, with knowledge and wisdom but also very real faults. Somehow this knowledge made him love his brother all the more, unconditionally.  With this in mind, he felt he shouldn’t have been surprised when the thought had occurred to him out of the blue one random day. Somewhere along the way, while loving his brother in everyway he knew how, a new kind of love had presented itself and Sam could see no reason not to love his brother in that way too.

 

*******

“Eat your food, Sam.  We gotta hit the road soon.”

Sam’s head turned towards his father and away from the sight across the restaurant.  He picked at his sweet potato fries, the burger that his dad had insisted on ordering for him going untouched.  “Can I get it to go?”

John looked at his watch and nodded. “Yeah.  Not a bad idea anyway.  We need to be in Odessa by three.”  He signaled the waitress and fished a twenty out of his wallet. “Why don’t you go get your brother? Tell him ten minutes or we leave without him.” 

Sam pursed his lips and nodded at the command dressed up as a request, immediately jumping up and skirting his way through the maze of tables set up in the main dining area of the sports bar. As he neared the bar proper, he couldn’t resist taking a moment to watch up close what had held his attention for most of the last half hour.

His older brother  (physically older by just over three years, mentally not so much) was perched on a barstool, nursing a beer, his attention firmly on the hot red-head on the other side.  She was busily wiping pint glasses out with a white cloth but on her sixth rotation of the same glass, Sam could tell that her focus wasn’t exactly on the task at hand.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Dean had put the whammy on her.  He, at least in his own mind, was Don Juan reincarnate.  He oozed charm when it suited him and Sam couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen his brother leave a girl in the lurch only to have her right back on the line any time they happened to blow back through town. Boyfriends, fiancés, friends, family; all were thrown over and forgotten at the scent of a possibility of a second go around with Dean Winchester.

His brother was indeed a sight to behold. He kept his dirty blond hair cropped short but just long enough to style fashionably.   His expressive eyes were a peculiar mix of greens that ranged from fresh spring grass to granny smith apples. The man had a naturally well-proportioned form that would not have been out of place in the works of Michelangelo. He was tall, already nearing six foot and the fighting, sparring, running, and training their father insisted on regularly had defined his muscles to a point that you could see the strength and power in every movement of his body even though he had several layers of clothing on.  He was, in Sam’s eyes, a near-perfect male specimen.

“So what’s it like?” the girl asked, leaning forward intently, eyes widening and teeth gently tugging at her full red bottom lip.

Dean tipped the beer back to finish it off and gave her a smirk.  “What, hunting?”

Sam sputtered.  Surely his brother wouldn’t…  “Dean!”  He barked, slightly louder than meaning to.  Dean glanced at him over his shoulder then turned on the bar stool, grabbed Sam’s collar, hauled him forward and deposited him on the seat next to him. An arm went around his neck and Dean pulled him into what anyone with a keen eye and an older sibling would recognize instantly as being a prelude to a headlock.

“Who do we have here?”  The woman looked Sam up and down slowly, making him feel like he was naked and standing in the middle of an interstate at rush hour. It occurred to him that she might just be checking him out as well but dismissed it as being outrageous. Especially with Dean sitting right there.

“Kristen, this is my little brother,” Dean moved his open hand to Sam’s chest and slapped it a little harder than strictly necessary.

“Ah!  So _you’re_ Sammy?”

“Sam,” he immediately corrected.  He’d dealt with this for years.  Samuel was his given name, Sam his preferred name and the sole concession for Sammy went to Dean because, as his brother felt the need to remind ad nauseam, he kept his ass alive and he would call him whatever he damn well pleased.  Which was also, incidentally, the same argument made when he called Sam ‘nerd, ‘pipsqueak’, ‘kid’, etc… 

Kristen smiled at him and blinked slowly. He looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye and noticed his brother’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. Sam cleared his throat and it seemed to snap the woman out of whatever momentary stupor she’d been in.

Dean turned to look at Sam’s profile. “I was just telling Kristen here, about being a _bounty_ hunter.”

“Oh. Sure.”  The pieces snapped together.  He had been talking about hunting.  Bounty…hunting.  Raised to roll with the flow and adlib off of pretty much anything coming out of his brother’s or father’s mouths, Sam nodded.  “Yeah, it’s tough but rewarding.”

“I just can’t get over it.  I mean, you guys are doing such dangerous work. And you seem so young. Isn’t it scary?” She gave up the pretense of working and leaned on her side of the bar, chin resting on her hand.

Sam smiled sweetly and shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’.  Kristen’s grin spread, she batted her eyelashes prettily and he felt his face grow hot under her attention.

“Do you carry a weapon?  I mean, you go after criminals right? Outlaws,” she near whispered as if they were conspiring secretly.

“Well yeah, weapons are a necessary evil. Shotguns, rifles, glocks… This is my favorite though,” He pulled his sheathed bowie knife from where it was secured onto the inside of his jacket.  He slid it out just enough for her to see the glint of light bouncing against the well-polished surface of the blade. “SOG Bowie fixed, straight blade.” The knife had been a Christmas gift from Dean the previous year.  Whether it was stolen or the result of a better than average game of pool, he didn’t care.  He ran his fingers slowly, lovingly up the sheath and wrapped them firmly around the grip, holding tightly but reverently to one of his most prized possessions.

The young woman made a sound that reminded Sam of the noises Dean made when he bit into a really good, hot, just-mooing-in-the-field-the-day-before burger.  It was a sound that could mean nothing but unadulterated pleasure. His gaze flicked up and he eyed the woman warily, not sure what had prompted the reaction.  She looked half-drugged, like she had been smoking opiates.  “You okay?” He asked, sincerely concerned.

“Um… yeah.” Dean interjected before she could answer. “Sammy I think it’s about time we head out.”

“Oh!  Yeah – shit!- Dad’s waiting.”  Sam spun on the stool and hopped off, tucking the knife back into place. “Nice to meet you,” he threw over his shoulder as he b-lined for the door.

He had left quickly to give Dean room to do his thing but as he pushed through the exit, he realized his brother was right on his heels. “What?  Didn’t even get her number?”

“Dude.  Oblivious much?”

“Huh?”

“You totally just cock-blocked me in there.”

They walked across the parking lot towards the car where John was already sitting in the Impala, thumping his thumbs impatiently on the steering wheel.

“Shotgun!” Dean called and Sam ignored him, sliding into the back seat, his mind still rolling over the term ‘cock-blocked’.

What did Dean mean?  He decided to ask much to Dean’s annoyance and John’s amusement. “Finally getting some competition there, Dean?”  John asked, smacking Dean’s shoulder with the back of his hand. 

“Knew this was gonna happen someday.” Dean shook his head, though there seemed to be no anger behind it.  He glanced over the seat at Sam’s confused face and he broke into a ‘I can’t stay mad’ smile.  “Little Casanova here had that poor girl eatin’ outta his hand.  Didn’t even give her a proper goodbye either. That’s good though, Sammy. Leave ‘em wantin’ more.” Dean winked and Sam’s heart did some sort of flip-flop double take.

“Must be those Winchester genes comin’ out.”

At his father’s words, Sam saw an emotion flit across Dean’s face that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.  He turned to look out the window for quite a while after that before turning back to look at Sam with an exaggerated smirk in place.

 “So Sammy, you really didn’t notice?”  Sam shook his head.  “You have to be shitting me.  Seriously?”

“I…”  Sam was at a loss for words.  He really had no clue.  It wasn’t as if he was sheltered.  No. He knew all about the three B’s - ‘birds, bees, and babes’ - thanks to an acutely uncomfortable talk from his dad and the porn that ran on loops throughout most of the motels they frequented. Wasn’t like he was asexual; no, he was very aware of his sexuality, thank you very much.  He just couldn’t fathom a girl (not a girl, a woman in her twenties) even sparing him a glance with his big brother standing beside him.

Sam, … he was just Sam.

 

***  


They made it to Odessa with time to spare and checked in to a halfway decent Sleepy Time Suites.  The motel chain was Dean’s favorite because it always had a separated alcove for the kitchenette with a two-range stove, oven, microwave, coffee maker and a mini fridge which gave them a chance to have something other than hit-or-miss fast food.  It was the closest thing they had to a real house on the road. 

“Okay,” John clapped his hands together, rubbing them with about as much excitement as their dad was ever going to exhibit. “I’m headin’ downtown and meet up with Carpy.” Louis “Carpy” Carpenter was one of their dad’s oldest buddies.  They knew each other from the Marine Corp and being in the same town meant it was in some way required to tie one – or ten – on together.  This meant they probably wouldn’t see John until well past midnight, maybe not even until the next morning.

“You boys good?” he asked out of habit more than genuine worry.  It wasn’t that their father wasn’t concerned with their general welfare.  It was just that he had raised them to hunt, to be warriors, killers.  He had spent weeks at a time chasing the supernatural, leaving them to fend for themselves. That wasn’t really something you could direct at a child and expect them to remain a child for very long. They knew how to feed themselves, how to protect themselves and how to do what was needed in a jam. John knew this.

“We’re good.  Tell Carpy we said ‘hi’.”

“Ritual?” Sam suggested as soon as the door had closed firmly behind their father.

“Ritual!”

The boys had perfected the motel room ritual over the many years on the road.  Dean had actually come up with it long ago, before Sam even knew what John did during the weeks he disappeared.  Sam thought maybe it was something that had calmed his brother who he realized in retrospect must have been attempting to cope with the burden of caring for another child while still being a child himself.

Dean busied himself salting all points of entry while Sam lit a white pillar candle in the center of the room, placing a battered picture of their mother at the base along with a few cats eye shells, a silver dollar, a four leaf clover (trapped between two pieces of tape many moons ago), and a large rock (which Dean swore up and down was a mystical stone but Sam really knew was just a big hunk of concrete Dean had found in a parking lot somewhere in New Jersey).

Dean grabbed a smudge stick and lit the end, walking the perimeter of the room as the smoke unfurled in ribbons above him. The salty herbal tang hit Sam’s nose and the familiar scent lulled him into a momentary sense of being safe and at home.

The ritual itself had no real purpose. It was just standard clear the air, protect the entrance type stuff that any self-respecting hunter or occultist might do.  But to Sam, it was what created and made each place they landed into their own tiny island.

“Done.”

“Done,” Sam echoed Dean.

“So whatddaya figure?  Wanna see what’s on tv?”

Sam settled in on the small overly firm vinyl sofa next to his brother who had already, not-surprisingly, claimed the remote. Only after five minutes of Dean pressing buttons, waving the remote in the air, slapping the device against his hand, against furniture, bouncing it off the wall, did he finally cross over four feet to the television itself only to find that it wasn’t in working order in the first place.  They gave up on the whole TV thing after that.

“Great.  So what are we gonna do now?”

Sam shrugged.  “Read, maybe?”  Dean gave him a look that spoke of slow torture.  “Fine.  Want to go for a walk?”

As if nature was giving them a big old ‘eff you’, a loud crack of thunder shook the walls and was almost immediately followed by the white noise of heavy sheets of rain hitting the roof.

“Okay.  Strike that.”

Dean sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Wish I hadn’t cleaned the weapons before we left Topeka.”

Sam pulled a large tome from his duffel and flopped back onto the couch opening the book in his lap.

“Sammy?”  Dean said after a few minutes of silence.  Sam knew it was coming.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he had even bothered getting the book out in the first place.  Dean couldn’t handle down time. He didn’t like the inactivity.  He didn’t like the silence.  Sam could feel himself being stared at the entire time and had done his utmost to ignore it.

Without looking up from his Anatomy textbook, “Hmm?”

“Did you…really not realize that chick was into you earlier?”

Sam could feel heat creeping into his cheeks again but still he didn’t look up.  “No.”

“Why?”

“Just… didn’t occur to me.”

“Didn’t occur?”  Dean huffed.  “How is that possible?  You like…freaking hypnotized her or something in five minutes flat.  She was thrusting her tits halfway across the bar at you. I just…  Man you are too much.  How are we ever gonna get you laid?”

That was it.  That was the question that made Sam’s head snap up so fast that he became temporarily dizzy.  “I-I didn’t know that was on the agenda.”

“Oh c’mon Sammy.  You’re seventeen.  Surely you want to pop that cherry.”

“How do you know I haven’t already?”

“Because you would have told me.”

“Contrary to popular belief, Dean, I don’t tell you everything.”

Something in his look must have given away that he was being truthful, because Dean was suddenly on him like a dog with a bone. “Damn Sammy!  Who?  When? Where?”

Sam fidgeted uncomfortably, fingering the corners of the book’s pages.  “Must we discuss this?”

“Hell yes.”  Dean’s look was one that Sam knew well.  Stubbornness mixed with essence of ‘I will make your life a living hell if need be’.

With a heavy sigh, Sam closed his book and turned towards his brother.  “Mary-Ellen Simki,” was all he said.

It was as though someone had pulled the plug on his brother.  Dean’s jaw dropped, his mouth hanging slack, his eyes stared straight ahead seeing nothing, and his posture became that of a drunk man sitting in the gutter. Sam waited patiently for him to regain the power of speech.

“A-are you… screwing with me?”

“No.”

“Mary-Ellen fuckin’ Simki was your first?!” Dean rubbed his hand through his short hair, perplexed by this new information.

Sam couldn’t blame him.  Mary-Ellen had been one of the most popular girls, a cheerleader even, at the school he had been at the year before in Georgia. Sam had been freshly sixteen and she was already seventeen and they shared a Chemistry class. The teacher had realized quickly that Sam was ahead of the game and within his first week, he was already tutoring his classmates.  Specifically Mary-Ellen.

At that point, Dean had already dropped the whole school thing and gotten his GED, but Sam was still stuck in the system. He always wondered if it was actually the lack of his brother’s presence that had allowed him to be a little more outgoing than he normally might have been in the shadow of Dean Winchester.

“You remember that party you crashed?”

“The one you weren’t gonna go to?”

“Yep.  And you dragged me there when you found out about it.”

“Full of jocks and douchbags, as I recall.”

Sam snorted.  “Yeah, well one of the jock/douchbags dumped Mary-Ellen the night before.  She saw me there and just...” he shook his head and shrugged.

Dean smirked, completely amused by what Sam seemed not to be saying.  “And where was I during all of this?”

“You were behind the barn with your hand up the student body president’s shirt.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean’s voice took on a wistful quality. “S’just something about that naughty book-worm type.  So where…?”

“The Impala.”

If Dean had been drinking something, it would have been time for a comedic spit-take.  As it was, there was no drink so he began coughing uncontrollably instead.

“Dude!”

Sam looked away with the realization of what he had shared. Dean was crowing.

“So was it good?”

“Dean,” Sam was fast approaching the limit of what he felt appropriate to share with his brother.

“C’mon Sammy.  How was your first time?  I want to know all the juicy details.”

“It was…”  Sam searched for the right word.  “It was pretty awesome,” he conceded.

He looked back at Dean whose eyes were now focused on Sam’s mouth. The look in his eyes was sharp focus, but he seemed to be only half there.  “So…w-what did you do exactly?”

“Um.  Had sex.  Thought we established that.”

“No, like…  did you eat her out?” he gave Sam a lecherous grin, “Did she suck you off?”

The words left his brother’s mouth and somehow ran like a live wire straight to his genitals.  His brother’s question didn’t seem to be aimed for embarrassment just genuinely curious, but it was like hypnosis watching his brother lick his lips, breath growing shallow and staring into nothing - likely picturing the scene before him.  It was heady the idea of painting that image for Dean.  “No,” Sam finally said in a low, breathless voice. “I…I fingered her and…,” he chewed at his lip.  “Then she got on top.”

There was a hitch in Dean’s breath. “So you got ridden your first time out of the gate?”  He asked. The words were meant to be a joke and Sam realized that.  But the question had some sort of extra layer to it that was making his stomach flutter anxiously.

“Guess so.”

Dean blinked slowly, their gazes meeting and holding. “Was it good, Sammy? Did it feel good?”

“Yeah, amazing.” Sam whispered, though he would never say what popped into his head next.  _Thought about you_. No, Sam knew that kind of thinking was saved for a therapist’s couch somewhere in the distant future.

Dean suddenly shifted, pulling at his jeans, adjusting his shirt, and spreading his legs ever so slightly wider.  It suddenly occurred to Sam what was happening. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced down at Dean’s crotch.  Sure enough, there it was.  The tell-tale sign of a promising hard-on beneath his Levis. Sam stopped thinking, stopped breathing…  He swallowed against what felt like sandpaper in his throat. 

What happened next came completely out of left field and when asked later, Sam would deny vehemently that it had ever been his idea but the words slipped out.  “Do you want me to tell you?”

Dean studied Sam’s face, looking for traces of teasing but he only saw a timid sincerity.  He nodded, his hands placed firmly on his knees as though he was forcing himself not to move them elsewhere.

“At first…” Sam began, rubbing his arm self-consciously, “she grabbed me and was, you know, hugging me.  Like she was a little buzzed but still there enough to know I was her friend.  But then, she pulled me into a corner and started kissing me.  Not talking about little pecks either.  Talking full-blown tongue wrestling kisses. She kept pushing her…her tits all against my chest, like she was trying to prove she was a girl and the only way to do that was to make me feel it.  Then she… grabbed my dick through my pants.”  Dean whimpered.  It was such a slight sound that Sam might have imagined it, so he carried on. 

“She kept whispering to me.  Kept telling me how big I felt and how hot I was and how she wanted me to fuck her so bad.”  This time he did not imagine the small low moan that resonated from his brother’s throat.  It spurred him on like the first hit off a wonderdrug.  He continued and watched Dean’s face closely.

“So I took her to the only place I knew was gonna be really private – the Impala.  You had parked it a little further back from the rest of the cars and slightly hidden should anything happen and we needed to make a break for it. So we were totally covered. I got in the back seat and… she was wearing this little skirt.  It was short like her cheerleader skirt and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, but I was a little surprised to find out that she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath.”

Dean gasped softly, his pupils dilating infinitesimally and his hands now grasping and twisting in the fabric of his pants.

“So obviously, I had my hand there immediately. I rubbed her at first, while she was kissing me.  Rubbed her lips and clit.  Then when I knew it was good and dripping wet, I put a finger there.  Just…thrust it in and watched her arch up, loving every second of it.” His fingertips rubbed together unconsciously.  “She pulled her top off and wasn’t wearing a bra either.  So I added a second finger and at the same time started licking and biting and sucking at her nipples.  She was screaming for more, Dean.  She was grinding against my hand like she was dying for it.” He gently rocked his own body without even realizing what he was doing.

At this point, Sam saw Dean’s hand go straight to his denim covered dick and had to suppress a smile.  If he had known it would be this easy to get this reaction, Sam would have told him this story before.

“W-what happened next?”  Dean’s voice was shaking.

“Well, by the time I added a third finger-,” he held up his middle three fingers one by one, side by side.

“Christ!” Dean gasped, standing up quickly and turning his lower body away from Sam.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“N-nothing.  I’m just gonna go…”  He started towards the bathroom, but was brought up short by Sam’s hand gripping his wrist. “Sammy!” he snapped, attempting to jerk away.

“Dean… are you…?”  Of course he was hard.  Sam knew he was and Sam was poking the bear anyway.  Something in him wouldn’t let him drop it. “How long has it been, man?”

Dean’s shoulders were hitched up to his ears with tension.  He looked back and scowled. “Leave it, Sam.” With the stern warning, he wrenched his arm away and slammed into the bathroom.

Sam had been tested the year before and his IQ was pretty damn high – well above average - but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was about to happen in that little six by seven foot bathroom.

He bit his lip, crossing to where Dean had just disappeared and stared at the closed door.  He leaning his forehead against the thin wood and closed his eyes, imagining what his brother was doing behind it.  His own dick jumped heartily and Sam moved his hand to cover it, gently applying pressure and friction in just the right places. 

Had he really gotten Dean that hot and bothered? Just the thought of it… Sam bit back a groan.

“Dean…” Caution was being thrown to the wind and he began again, for Dean and for himself.  “I put three fingers in.  I did.” He let the words feed and fan the flames.  “And she was going crazy.  She was near tears, begging me.  Begging me to let her sit on my cock.  Begging me to fuck her brains out.  Oh…God it was so hot. I let her pull my zipper down and pull my dick out.  She was worried it wouldn’t fit but…  Oh…” At this point, between his own sense memory kicking in and the hand that had found its way down the front of his pants, Sam was working himself into his own fine frenzy. “I let her roll the condom on. Thankfully my big brother keeps some stashed in the car.  Mmm. She rolled it on slowly but then - so fast… so fast she moved after that, positioning herself over me still wearing that damn short skirt, and she… she drove herself down on me. She…  She bounced on my cock so good.  So hot.  Ugh…  She loved it. She kept moaning and thrashing and I held on to her and starting driving up into that tight wet-”

The door was yanked open and a crimson-faced Dean stood on the other side.  He made a strangled noise, the sound of a tortured man, and his eyes dropped to where Sam was stroking himself.  Dean’s nostrils flared.  Sam blinked, shocked, but before realization and embarrassment had a chance to set in Dean dropped to his knees and swallowed Sam’s steel length in one swift movement.

“AH!” was all Sam could get out.  Grunts, moans, groans, quick labored breaths… There was the wet sound of Dean sucking, fast and smooth, pulling Sam in as deep as he could go and pulling any sentient thoughts away just as quickly as they came.

“Jesus, Dean!”  Sam leaned sideways against the doorframe to stop himself from falling over.

There was a hand cupping his balls, gently massaging in glorious contrast to the hard and deep method being applied to his dick. The effect was spectacular and dizzying.

Dean looked up at Sam through his lashes. His lips, slick with spit and precum, were gliding smoothly, pushing and pulling the sensitive engorged flesh.. Sam had noticed his brother’s mouth before.  Of course he had. It was beautiful and his lips plump and it had stirred up some mighty questionable daydreams in the past when he had noticed how much Dean licked his lips.  Still he hadn’t until that very moment realized just how much those heart shaped lips were made for sex, for sucking, for kissing and biting and a host of other delicious activities, which Sam decided he would list in detail at a later point in time.

As it was, his brother was currently blowing his mind and his dick simultaneously and again this left no room for any other thought whatsoever.

“Dammit!  Shit! Feels so..so good!” He bracketed Dean’s head with his hands and watched imagining that he was pushing himself into that lush mouth instead of his brother controlling the pace. He imagined Dean saying yes to that, allowing him to fuck his mouth.  That was the magic key.  It was the undoing of any composure of which he may have still had any slight hold. “Ugh… g-gonna… gonna cum. About to…”  He threw his head back, his eyes squeezing shut in the overload of pleasure that swept over him in waves.  He came and came and came and somewhere towards the end of the downward spiral, he recognized that he was still in Dean’s mouth. He looked down at his brother, still latched on to him even as he began to soften, completely spent and sated.

He had…  Had he just…swallowed?

Dean stood, never meeting his eyes, ran his forearm across his mouth and zipped himself before turning and walking directly to the motel room door and making a silent exit.

Sam looked down at the pearly streak of cum (not his) on his bare foot and sighed.  “Fuck.”

 

***

 

It was nearly one in the morning when Dean got the courage up to head back to the motel.  In an attempt to not face his brother (or himself, if he was being completely honest) he had walked until he found the nearest local watering hole and had drank at a steady pace until the bartender had yelled “last call”.

“Last call,” he muttered to himself as he stumble-walked his way down the sidewalk.  “Damn small-ass towns.”

He fished the room key out of his pocket, thanking the universe that he wouldn’t have to wake his brother up to let him in. Or his dad, for that matter.

FUCK!  His dad.  What if… what if John had gotten home by now and Sam had told him?

Dean clutched as his hair wildly, gripping the short strands tightly.  “Dammit!” He yelled at the empty parking lot.  He had fucking attacked his brother!  “God.  Sammy,” he whimpered, beginning to feel the panic and fear that the alcohol had been working to suppress.  “C’mon, Dean. Suck it up.  Get it together.”  He placed his hands on his knees, folded over to suck in oxygen until he could compose himself.

Finally, with great trepidation, he opened the door to the room.  All was dark and quiet except for a small fluorescent lamp over the stovetop that Sam had likely kept on so Dean could see when he returned, just like he always did. He placed his hand over his shredded heart at the gesture. 

Even through his slightly beer-goggled vision, he noticed a note on the table beside the door.

_Dean,_

_Leftover burger in the fridge.  Thought you might want it._

_Wake me when you see this so I know you made it back okay._

_  
_Dean let the paper fall out of his slackened fingers and flutter to the carpet.  If he allowed himself, he might have really gone off the rails at this point.  But no, he had to let Sam take the lead on this. If he wanted to beat the shit out of him, he would welcome it.  But if he wanted to pretend it never happened and let Dean off without having him arrested or kicking his ass…  Well, Dean would likely torture himself enough for both of them anyway.

He made his way slowly to the two beds in the far corner of the room, taking note that there was only one bed occupied which meant John wasn’t back yet.  He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  The large sprawling lump of covers on the far bed made him smile and then instantly frown. 

“Sammy,” his voice just above a whisper. “Hey, Sam.”

No response.

Gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack, Dean edged towards the bed and pushed at the mound of blankets.

“Mmm?”

“Sam, you said t’let you know when…”

The covers were thrown back and Sam propped himself up on his elbows, blinking rapidly against sleep.  “Yeah…thanks.  What time is it?”

“One.”

Sam looked at the other bed and blew air out of his nose.  “Dad called and said he was crashin’ at Carpy’s.”

Dean nodded and looked anywhere but into Sam’s eyes. He just…couldn’t.

“Dean…”

Oh Hell.  So much meaning, emotion and weight was put into his name coming off of Sam’s tongue.  The drinking, which had previously been sort of not really masking his self-loathing and frustration, was biting him in the ass then as it began working to make him feel every bit of it, only mutated – bigger and stronger and darker.  “Sammy,” he whispered brokenly, sinking down onto the second bed, tears already pooling in his eyes.  “I’m so…so damn sorry!”

He didn’t look up to see Sam’s reaction. He couldn’t.  Couldn’t stand to see the anger, shame, hurt that he put there.  He could face any monster put in front of him, but in this he was an unabashed coward. “Sorry I d-did what I did.  I don’t… I have no clue what came over me, Sammy.  I just lost it for a second and…  I don’t ‘spect you to forgive me but please…don’t hate me.  I’d never mean to hurt you.”

There was silence.  Total, utter, gut-wrenching silence.  And then there was a chuckle.  An honest to God laugh.

His inability to meet Sam’s eyes flew out the window and he looked up quickly to see Sam’s face twisted in humor.  His eyes were bright, even in the semi-darkness, and his hand had clapped over his mouth as soon as he realized himself that he was laughing.

“Sam,” Dean said gruffly, unsure of what was going through his little brother’s head.  Maybe what happened had driven him nuts.

“Dean,” he mumbled through his hand. “you…really don’t have to…” He shook his head and flopped back on his pillow, his body and shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“What the fuck, Sam?”

“You…  you’re apologizing!  Like…actually apologizing to me.”

“Well, yeah.”

Sam rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, looking like he had not a care in the world.  “Dean let’s get something straight. I was the one talking. I was the one that got you worked up.  And I…” he looked Dean straight in the eye so there would be no mistaking his next words, “was the one that got the fan-fucking-tastic bj.”

Dean momentarily forgot how to breathe. “Wha-?” he croaked.

“I thought you might flip out.  I can see - and smell - that you’ve been working your way into a fine state of shame.  The thing you didn’t account for… the thing you think you did to me was something I wanted.”

“Sammy…,” a breath.

“Dean,” Sam moved to sit directly across from him. “I’ve always been afraid to…” Dean watched Sam work through something in his head, like he was forcing things out that he thought might never see the light of day.  “Always been afraid to admit, even to myself, what I want.  I love you Dean.”

“I love you too Sammy.  You’re my brother.”

“No.  You misunderstand me.  I…LOVE you and WANT you.”

He shook his head but before he could deny Sam’s words or say anything really, Sam put his hands on Dean’s knees. It wasn’t a sensual touch. There was nothing sexual about it. It seemed to be a means of keeping anchored and focused and sure of what was coming out of his mouth.

“Dean, I wanted what happened earlier. I kept talking when I saw how it was affecting you.  It was like I finally understood what had been missing.  What I’ve been waiting for.”

“No.” Dean ground out harshly.  “Just…no!”

But Sam’s demeanor didn’t change.  Stubborn as a mule.  There was no way Dean would ever convince Sam that he was wrong in what he was saying.  His brother was smarter than everyone he knew put together and knew his mind better than most too. He might have been ‘just a kid’ to most of the world, but Dean knew Sam was no kid.  It was because of that, not in spite of, that what Sam was saying scared the crap out of him.

“Dean, I know you won’t believe me. I know you don’t feel like that. I…just can’t let you suffer thinking you abused me and I was some victim of your evil urges.” He smiled sadly. “I wanted it Dean. I just hope you can come to terms with that.  I forgive you. You forgive me.”

The revelation, the offer... Dean’s head was swimming. “Sammy… this…it’s a lot to take in.”

Sam looked down at his lap and shrugged. “Thanks, I’ve always thought so.”

The response drew Dean up short and he looked at Sam to see him looking back with a tongue-in-cheek grin on his face.  Was he referring to...?  Dean swallowed.  Then swallowed again.

And then it happened, as the words finally soaked into this brain.  Sam’s easy smile relieving him instantly of a burden he thought he would carry the rest of his life brought on a feeling of exhilaration and peace.  Dean chuckled and shook his head.  “Show off.”

They said nothing more that night, at least on the topic of what had happened.  For the time being, Dean allowed himself to feel the relief and happiness of having his brother not hate him.  The other side of that coin would be dealt with at a later time, but for now it was brushed neatly under the rug between them.

After that they sat together, like they hadn’t in years, at the small table near the door.  They split the burger, played cards and reminisced over childhood stories, broken bones, old friends, and more recent hunts. They argued over who was better at hustling pool, the best NFL team (though it was stated by both that soccer was still superior to football, and hockey superior to all) and who should do the cooking the next day because they had a tiny kitchen and were going to damn-well make the most of it.

They stayed up well past the multitude of tired yawns, catching a second wind and then making coffee so as to ease into a steady third wind.  The sun was coming up, birds starting to chirp and John was walking through the door, looking slightly worse for wear and hungover as hell, before they even looked at the clock.

“You boys have a good night?”

“Yeah totally!  “How ‘bout  you?”

Dean never heard his father’s response. He was too busy staring at his Sam, his brother’s smile lighting up the room, and realizing just how screwed he was.

 

***

 

For as long as he could remember, Dean Winchester had loved his brother.

In the beginning, the love he had for him was that of awe and innocence.  When his parents brought Sam home from the hospital, he had initially worried that no one would care about him anymore.  One look at Sam, though, with his chubby cheeks, tiny fists flailing and a smile just for him (even though he found out later that at that age it just meant gas) and Dean was a goner.  It didn’t matter so much if his parents ignored him from time to time, so long as he had baby Sammy’s attention.

After their mother died, his love had become very parental even if he had been too young to know it at the time.  He had been given the task of keeping Sam safe and he had taken that task to heart.  He adored the little boy that was growing bigger each day by his side. He took such pride holding the toddler’s smaller hand while he navigated his way to walking for the first time.  Sam’s first sounds had been De-de-de, which everyone told their father meant he was trying to say a baby version of Dada, but had actually one day finally emerged in full as Deeean. Each moment with little Sammy was a balm to his motherless soul and he clung to the sweet unquestioning love that came with caring for him.

As Dean became a teenager and then Sammy followed suit a few years later, his love had changed quite a bit.  It was almost heartbreaking to see Sam go from thinking Dean could do no wrong to him seeming to know without a shadow of a doubt (with a knowledge apparently born of hormones, according to John) that Dean could never possibly be right.  About anything.  Ever. At this point, Dean learned that the love he felt for his brother had once been ‘because of’.  During these challenging years, the love became ‘in spite of’ and the term ‘unconditional love’ finally made sense.

At the age of twenty, when most guys were living it up, going to college parties or starting to settle into life, Dean had stuck close to his family.  It wasn’t because he had to.  Sure he had a sense of duty and loyalty, but he also had his own thoughts and dreams. He was twenty, he could have left years earlier.  There was just always something that held him there like a tightly wound rubber band. He couldn’t explain it but he couldn’t have walked away if he tried.  The love he felt for his little brother was now boldly streaked with pride as he was on his way to becoming his own man and it became harder and harder to see him as the child he had helped raise.

And then one day, his little brother told him a story and Dean made a mistake that he knew would test the limits of his brother’s love for him.  Only it didn’t. It opened up an entirely new world of love and Dean knew that somehow, if they stuck together, it would be okay.

 

_TO BE CONTINUED...._

 


End file.
